There you are...on the trading route of ancient Egypt...one of great riches and also one of great danger...it all started out well, maybe too well...and now here you are trying to avoid the unavoidable sun that beats on you like some crazed alcohol fueled drummer taking out his life’s frustration on his drum kit...and oh how you wish you could find a well now...the heat pressing down on you like someone tied one of Giza pyramids on your back...your knees weak and wobbly, your legs heavy, every step a chore...making you fall to your knees in the scorching sand to beg like a beggar in search of a meal or a few crumbs or whatever he can scavenge...and now the route has all but disappeared, in a category four hurricane of sand and wind that has blown in from the east...you were bringing gold, and jade, and priceless antiquities, you hoped to find your fortune, but now you find yourself lost-lost in time, lost in place, lost in space, lost within yourself, lost in the absurd reality of it all... and you find yourself in the throws of the desperation and madness that are overtaking you like a fatal case of tuberculosis...you find yourself coughing, coughing up sand--desperate for water that is running short, desperate for hope that now seems like a distant mirage that keeps tempting you...but now it’s too far to go back to the oasis even if you could or would...maybe the storm will blow itself out by morning...maybe not...you can never tell in the desert...no flight plan, no charted course, you didn’t trust anyone to know...thieves and pirates roam about unchecked and are eager to cut your throat...just to cut your throat...your blood spilled across the desert sand like some illegible form of cursive writing and you will be buried under a dune that soon blows you into oblivion...what would they do if they found you carrying such valuables?...you don’t want to think about it, not at all...the members of your party, the ones who are left are not blaming, blaming you...what if this doesn’t let up in time?...this heavy weight is like a great pyramid hanging over your head waiting to fall and crush whatever is beneath it...including you...what the hell is this gold worth now that your throat is parched and an evil spirit seems to be walking with you, sleeping with you...omnipresent and ominous...menacing and marauding...something like a curse from the pharaohs that keeps following in your footsteps and tracking you down until it exacts its revenge...you are the hunted, you are the prey...all of this insanity determined to make you believe, make you believe, until you don’t believe that you didn’t believe...you hunker down in your dirty, tattered, weatherbeaten tent and now you pray, the prey prays out of desperation, out of fear...like you’ve never prayed before because you’ve never prayed before...you just always assumed everything was going to be alright because you were always sure of yourself, but not you’re not so sure...you wished you would have saw the sign...the sign of what was coming, but you didn’t...or maybe there was no sign at all...maybe because you were blinded by the light of treasures that were previously unimaginable...and now you face the terror that was previously unimaginable...the exasperation of the moment...you were warned of the danger and the consequences of your actions, but hell, why would you listen to that?
